Colours of Green and Purple
by cold-crescent-moon
Summary: This will not be a happy story.
1. Chapter 1

I don't own anything

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><p>There was a certain truth when he said he didn't like him. The things the other boy did grated on his nerves to no end, and the way he shouted all of the time made him want to go get his ears sewn shut. But even if the redhead harboured all of this questionable hatred, there was a blooming affection that took root somewhere deep withtin the core of that intense 'hate'. The way his grin was crooked, the way he had to be conscientious of the amount of sugar he took everyday, and the way he never failed to keep his natural hair colour a mystery. A faint sigh escaped the redhead's lips as he sat at the table, chin resting on the platform his hand made as the other held the wooden stick in a loose grip.<p>

And lately, he hadn't been able to get the boy out of his mind.

The clock in his living room struck, shaking the Brit from his thoughts. Rubbing his eyes loosely he collected himself and stood up. Perhaps he should get some rest. Maybe... sleep on his thoughts and let the subconscious run about for a while. Yes, that sounded like a fair idea. Too lazy to actually _walk_ over to his bedroom, the redhead flicked his wrist and appeared there, automatically changed into his nightwear. Setting the thin 'twig' down on the dresser next to his bed, he slunked underneath the covers and lay there.

_Only a week... I only have a week left._

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><p>It was already past two in the morning, but that didn't stop the dynamic duo from resisting sleep. Instead of going to bed, the lot decided to dual out the night. Frustrated grunts and speedy clicking filled the air as the lights from the television screen splashed out and lashed the walls with violent reds and blues.<p>

"No way I'm paying for the next game Chum." He said, biting his tongue and furrowing his brows. An archaic smile crept onto the brunette's face as he remained relaxed and slumped against the couch, clicking away just as vigourusly but with an unknown class. The small fact that he wasn't a bit swayed by the taller boy's comment buggered the living hell out of the other, making him more rigid.

"Y'know Fanboy, you should relax a little. And besides, you have a job opening, right? So coughing up your own cash for the next game shouldn't be so harsh." He said in a smooth voice, the smirk still on his face. Fanboy gave a scowl.

"I'm not working for him."

Chum Chum gave a chortle. "It can't be _that_ bad."

"Oh, it _is_." The taller one said, his left eye beginning to twitch slightly. Chum Chum gave a sort of a shrug and propped his leg up on the coffee table in front of them.

"Still, it's something..."

Fanboy jerked his hand with a violent click before saying:

"Yeah, but that _something_ isn't necessarily a good thing. You know that."

"I'm sure you can change that." The other said before giving a wide grin and making the television scream.

"I win again Fanboy."

Exasperated, the said boy carelessly threw the controller elsewhere and slumped down on the couch, eyes shut from lack of blinking.

"Goddammit..." He grunted. The brunette gave a laugh at this an threw a light punch at Fanboy's shoulder.

"If it means anything, I'll pay half for the next game."

He shook his head no. "Nah, I think I can manage this one... it'll be worth it too. If the first verison of this game was that much fun, then the second one should be better."

A silence fell over the two. The only sound left in the air was the faint buzz of the telly and the 8-bit music of the 'Game-Over' theme. Fanboy still had his eyes shut and head resting on the back of the couch, looking tired and frustrated. Chum Chum scratched the back of his neck and shifted uncomfortably, but after another while he took a breath and said:

"So... I guess we only have a week left, huh?"

Fanboy's eyebrow twitched.

"... Yeah, I guess." He said, trying to sound dismissive as possible. However, the brunette could see right through it.

"You should tell him, it's been four years already."

"Shut up." The other murmured, not wanting to talk about it. Chum Chum shook his head no.

"Fanboy, you only have a week left before Kyle's gone, we don't even know if this is permanent or not. You _have_ to tell him."

He merely waved his hand dismissively and kept his eyes closed.

"If I could, I would. But... if anyone else found out about it, then it would turn into such a mess."

Finally, Fanboy cracked open his eyes and looked at his friend, frustration and anger evident in those light blue eyes.

"And you know I don't want to get Kyle involved."

Chum Chum gave a heavy sigh.

"I guess your dad's still a jackass huh?"

"As always."

A laugh. "It's hard to think that you two are even related. I mean, he's got brown eyes, and you have blue. He's a criminal, and you're a... sort-of-superhero."

Fanboy managed a smile at the last comment. "Haha, I guess... but it's never good to be related to a Criminal."

Chum Chum kicked his feet together, not knowing what to look at when he said:

"Especially if he's the Riddler."

The taller one gave a grimace at the name, his nose scrunching up and lips pulling downward.

"Eagh, don't say his name, it's gross."

The brunette gave a shrug.

"Then maybe you should get a colour change."

Fanboy snorted at this. "No way, I love Purple and Green together. And besides, it's my duty to make them good colours again; They's been associated with too many bad guys, someone has to step up and change that."

"And that someone is you, Son to the Riddler and Alice."

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><p>The next morning was painful for Fanboy and his sidekick Chum Chum. They had slept on the couch, so the morning after they had kinks and kriches in odd places. Chum Chum struggled to move his neck since he hadn't slept with a pillow, and Faboy struggled to use his hands and arms since he slept on them. Regardless, they pulled themselves together and walked toward school.<p>

"Did we ever finish that assignment Mrs. Bee gave us yesterday?" The brunette asked in a daze, more curious than caring. Fanboy gave a lazy shrug.

"Don't know, don't care. We're still sophomores, so we don't need to worry until next year."

Chum Chum laughed at this, waking up a little more. "That's true... but I don't want to think about college or anything. It seems like too much work for one thing."

"One thing that can change your whole life."

The shorter boy rolled his eyes.

"And suddenly you're dramatic."

"Hey, I gotta go to college. I don't want to be like my dad, remember?"

"I don't think it matters if you go to college or not though. If you really want, or don't want to become something, then you just have to keep that in mind when you do stuff."

Fanboy fell silent at this, staring at the sidewalk as they walked.

"I... guess," He started. "But... I think mom wants me to go to college."

Chum Chum gave a smile at this.

"Well then, give it a try."

It was a few more steps before the duo arrived at the front steps of their school. A usual, they were (at least) twenty minutes late, but they strode into the classroom regardless, plopping down in their seats at the back. Mrs. Bee rolled her eyes before resuming to her lecture, which shouldn't even happen in high school. Ironic as it was, Mrs. Bee was more of a Professor rather than any normal High School instructor. No one pointed this out though.

Light blue eyes scanned around the room, looking for the redhair that was never present. Kyle was in a different class, he knew that, but he still looked for him out of habit. He'd just been in the same class as the Brit since Elementary and Jr. High, so even after two years his eyes still wandered for him.

Even after four years he still longed for him.

Giving a tired sigh, he tipped his chair back and propped his feet on the bar of his desk. He'll just wait for lunch, then he could meet up with the Angsty redhead. Maybe this time he wouldn't slink away somewhere, like last time.

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><p>An: Okay, call me crazy, but I've been itching to write a Fan/Kyle fic for a while. And as embarrassed I am to say this, I kind like the programme, and I want to make an effort in this.

Also, Everytime I see Fanboy, I'm reminded of the Riddler from DC Comics, so why not relate the two? I'm not going to make this fic a crossover, but there _will_ be a number of DC references (I just hate making crossover fics and listing in them in that category). For those of you who actually read this, here's the gist of what I plan to do:

- Kyle has to go back to the Wizarding world.

- Fanboy's being pulled into the criminal world (and resisting) by his father.

- I can't say what, but the Riddler is going to fuck shit up that makes the wizarding world and real world clash, so don't expect a happy ending.

I wanted to make Chum Chum an absentee kind of character in this fic, but I decided against it. Reason being so that there could be a reason for Kyle and Fanboy to bond, but it would've made things more complicated then it had to be. My original intent with Chum? Eh, nothing too big, just have him locked up in Yo's basement and filed as a 'missing person' for about a year or two.

Yeah, funny right?

Also, I'm sure you've noticed, but the setting is in high school, so languge is going to be different compared to the actual show.


	2. Chapter 2

I don't own anything

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><p>'<em>Dear Mr. Bloodworth,<em>

_We are sending you this letter in regards to your re-enrollment to Milkweed Academy._

_The sole reason for this invitation is to ensure that the magical population has a basic understanding of magic, and we feel that you require instruction in respinsible magic handling. We will give you a month to prepare for your departure to Milkweed, and in that time please purchase all of the required tools for your schooling._

_On the day of your departure, we will send an owl with instruction, so please stay in your house._

_Signed, the Chair of Milkweed Academy'_

Faint green eyes scanned the yellow parchment. The accented words of Mr. Kinn didn't seem to register in his head as he stared down at the letter that he kept hidden on his lap.

He got the letter three weeks ago, so this was his last week in this sad excuse of a school. Of course, this meant that he had to go back to England, although he preferred Scotland. But it seemed like such a waste, after a few years of yearning for Milkweed he eventually learnt to live with being in the United States, and just as he was getting the hang of things he had to go back to that damp little island. Kyle had to admit, he _was_ happy, at least a part of him was, but... His mind wandered over to Fanboy and Chum Chum.

He was going to miss the people who decided to be his friends despite his questionable personality.

Giving a sigh of sorts, he rolled up the thick parchment and poofed it away for the moment. What bothered him the most was why the Academy would re-admit him when he was already 15. Usually, if the school wanted a student back, they would've recalled him/her by the age of 13. There was a cap for age, so if _he_ was being re-admitted ay 15, then there must be something going on back in the Wizarding Realm.

He sat upright and leaned back on the back of his chair, crossing his arms.

Also, why wasn't there a signature on the letter? He was expecting the unpleasantness of seeing Sigmund's curly cursive letters, but it was just signed 'The Chair of Milkweed Academy', another sign that something wasn't right.

The redhead bit down on his bottem lip, tapping his foot by the slightest bit.

Could it mean that there was something going on, but hadn't been released to the public? The boy nodded to himself at this thought. It wouldn't be a surprise if it were something of that sort, after all, things like cover-ups and lies happened all of the time, both back there and here in the U.S., so he could probably find out easily through gossip that traveled faster than brooksticks. A slight smirk pulled at his lips. How were the students going to react to his coming back to Milkweed? Only knowing certain kinds of magic and having to take more courses than anyone else, would they try to outcast him? Or would they give him a little credit for making it back into the world of magic and ask him what 'normal' life was like.

Kyle licked his lips as another thought floated into his mind.

What kind of replacement would be there for the Professor he ate? He couldn't wait to see that bit.

The bell rang violently, letting the students bustle out like cooped pigeons and rush out to the cafeteria. Being the slight hermit he was, the Briton took his well earnt time packing his things and slinging his bag over his shoulder. Just as he walked down the aisle of desks and was close to the door, Mr. Kinn called out to him.

"Kyle, may I talk with you in now?" The middle aged man asked. Turing around when his name was called, the redhead gave a nod and strode over to him, slightly curious if Mr. Kinn noticed him spacing out during class.

"Kyle Pender..." The man started out, looking at him with squinted eyes through those thick lenses. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, but it soon broke out into a grin. "I hear you will going back to Milkweed, true yes?"

For a moment, the Brit could feel his fingers go cold and the heat drain from his body, where it went he would never know. The man crackled a bit, clapping his shoulder and leading him to an empty desk, making him sit down.

"Kyle, you must be pondering about so much in your head, so much question that answered no one for you. And probably you ponder, why old Mr. Kinn know about Milkweed, yes?"

Still unable to speak, the boy merely gave a nod. The twinkle in Mr. Kinn's eyes grew along with his grin.

"Kyle, you ever ask why Milkweed send you to America, why not keep you in Engrand or British areas? Why send little trouble-boy here, all way, _long_ way, cross the sea?" He asked, leaning against his desk. Kyle blinked twice at this.

"I..." He began. Come to think of it, he never seemed to question it at all.

"I never... _thought_ about it closely I guess."

Mr. Kinn nodded. "You were young, so small, you did not need question why America, you question how get back into Milkweed. You overlook the small important part. But," The friendly glow in the old man's eyes seemed to vanish in an instant. "You are big now. You think more than you were small. Kyle, there are things going on in the Magical World that could have endangered you. You remember your mother, yes?"

He could feel his mouth grow dry the instant his mother was mentioned.

"I don't want to talk about it." He said curtly, fisting his fingers and furrowing his brows. This didn't seem to sway the other man at all.

"This is important Kyle, you must talk and learn what the point was."

"The _point_?" He asked through grit teeth. The old man was saying as though his mother were killed like a pig for slaughter.

"Yes, Kyle, there was a _point_ in death of your mother. A serious _reason_ that endangered you if you not be removed from country."

The Brit stood up, his face etched with an expression as though he had eaten something bitter.

"I think I'll take my leave now. I only have ten minutes left in my lunch hour, and I need to eat." He said with anger tracing after his words. Mr. Kinn gave a reasonable nod, and Kyle swiftly made his way out the door and down to the cafeteria.

Honestly speaking, he had lost his appetite.

Even so, he still made way down to the lunchroom where all of the others were having a good time. Passing through the double doors, he entered the filthy cage and headed toward the lunch line. Usually, the last to come had to eat the shit-like grub that was left over, but Kyle couldn't care less at this moment. Once the lunch landy saw him, she quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Red, aren't _you_ awfully late today." She said in a gruff voice, slapping down whatever she had left from the pot onto his plate. He gave a shrug.

"Teachers. They just love to talk." He said flatly.

"Ah, I remember the days." She said with a laugh. She was more a man than a woman, but still a good person who liked small talk. "C'mere Red, I don't want anyone seein' me giving you the extra fries. You're too skinny, ya need to eat more."

A small smile pulled at his lips.

"Thank you Mrs. Griff."

"Anytime Red." She said with a tough wink before shooing him away. He could feel a laugh errupt from him as he trotted away and toward the back. The only good thing about being disliked by practically every student in the school was the fact that the teachers and staff took pity on you and treated you better. Good enough to help your survive through school, but enough to get you hated even more.

Setting himself down, he toyed with the yellow fries before taking a chance and eating it. They weren't that bad, but it could be better.

"Kyle!"

The said boy looked up, greeted by the crooked grin of the diabetic boy approaching him.

"Can I sit with you?" He asked, setting his tray of food next to his. The redhead gave a careless shrug.

"I can't stop you even if I said no."

Fanboy merely gave a 'pff' at this.

"Oh c'mon Kyle, you've only got a week left here, at least let me eat with you during your last few days."

That seemed to be a fair reason. But even without consent the taller boy sat himself down, happily munching on that... 'food'.

"So," He started. "Where exactly are you going again?"

"Back to England. I'm not sure which city or town, but they'll tell me on the day of departure."

"Cool... who's 'they'?"

"The school."

Fanboy nodded and fell silent, his eyes roaming around as if they were trying to find something to talk about. Kyle gave a smile at this, knowing that silence was not the Hero's thing to do.

"So... you gonna throw a party or something?" He asked, scratching the back of his head. Kyle just made a face.

"I don't intend to. And even if I did, I wouldn't know who to invite."

"You can invite _me_." He said, wiggling his purple eyebrows.

"I could, but I wouldn't make a good host, and I don't like parties so much."

"Then Chum Chum and I could come over to your place and just hang out!" He said, grinning. That's when the redhead noticed it.

"Where's the other one?"

Fanboy's expression darkened at the question. "He's with Yo."

The Brit stopped chewing his food. "With _Yo_?" Why? Doesn't he hate her?"

The lanky boy gave a shrug and slumped down on the table. "I don't know. Chum doesn't really hate anyone, but those two've been hanging out together. A lot." He said glumly. Kyle couldn't help but feel a bit sorry.

"Well, I only have six days left, but I suppose... we could, spend time together?" He said, not too sure if he were saying the right words. Almost immediately, the tall American broke a grin and shouted.

"Dude, I wold love that! We could do like, nightmorning and stuff!" He said, wrapping his arm around the Brit's thin shoulders. "And then we could use your magic to fly around like bugs and save kittens from trees too!" Fanboy speculated excitedly, using his other hand to help visualize the idea. Kyle merely rolled his eyes, but didn't bother to shrug off Fanboy's shoulders.

"If that's what you want to do, then I probably _could_ pull it off, but nothing destructive. I'm warning you, that house isn't entirely mine, so if it's damaged _I_ get charged."

"No worries, We'll do the destructive stuff outside!" He said with a goofy grin. The redhead could feel a grin of his own forming.

"So, I'll meet you at your house tonight?" The American boy asked. Kyle gave a nod.

"Yeah, I'll be sure to answer the door."

And as if on cue, the bell rang, indicating the end of lunch.

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><p>An: I dunno, I feel like this was rushed, but it felt natural as I was writing it. Like... it wasn't forced material. I don't mind the flow/speed of how the story is going entirely, but some areas could probably use a little more work.

Also, keep in mind that these two are high schoolers. That means that they're used to each other, and they may seem OOC due to the fact that this is fast forwarded in time. The longer you know a person, your attitude eventually/gradually changes. This is a fact, unless you are a robot.

Another thing to consider: Kyle mentions Scotland, and his lst name is mentioned. I just chose a name at random (actually, I chose the one name that fit nicely to his first name), but if anyone actually knows his Surname, I would love to know. The Scotland thing will be explained later, so just let time commit.

Also, please excuse any grammar mistakes and spelling errors. I'm multi-tasking. I shouldn't be, but I'm in a time crunch here. I know I could always save this chapter's publishing for later, but if I hold onto an idea for too long, it becomes unattractive and I won't be able to use it. Just think of these chapters as milk when they're in my head; I need to get them out on paper before it all spoils.

Well then, thanks for reading this far. Cheers!


	3. Chapter 3

I don't own anything.

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><p>Pulling his mask on and running a hand through his purple hair, the American looked at his reflection with one eyebrow quirked up. Truthfully, he felt a bit nervous about going over to Kyle's house tonight. It wasn't like it was his first time either, but whenever he went it was usually on his own accord and without invitation.<p>

So the simple fact that Kyle had _agreed_ on letting him set foot into the house… well, it showed that things weren't in their natural order.

Footsteps bounded down from the corridor, and soon there were three automatic knocks before the door swung open. Popping his head into the room, the brunette grinned at his friend before opening his mouth:

"Hey Fanboy! Got any plans for tonight?"

The said boy turned around at this, a questioning look plastered on his face.

"We were going to Kyle's house, remember?"

Chum Chum looked at the other with blank eyes before they sparked back up with an "Oh" expression.

"That was tonight?" He asked sheepishly. Fanboy gave a nod.

"Yeah, why? If you wanted to go get Frosty Freezey Freezes, I'm sure Kyle wouldn't mind–"

"No, it's not that." The brunette said, cutting the other off. Stepping into the room, Chum Chum stood there with a sort of guilt-ridden expression: "It slipped my mind that we'd be seeing Kyle tonight," He started. "So I made other plans… so…. y'know."

"You made plans? With who?"

The brunette struggled to answer; you could see him wriggling his toes by the way his shoes shifted, and he was left chewing on his lip before drawing in a breath and saying:

"With Yo."

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><p>"With <em>Yo<em>?" Kyle asked, looking completely befuddled. The two stood at the doorway, Kyle's hand still on the inner knob and Fanboy still standing on the stoop. A frustrated grunt escaped him as he rubbed his eyes with a gloved hand.

"Yeah… sorry about that, looks like it's just going to be the two of us. You okay with that?"

The redhead gave a shrug as he motioned Fanboy to come in. "Honestly, I don't really care since there isn't much to do; everything's been packed and compacted–"

"'Compacted'?" The American asked, interrupting the other.

"Uh, I guess… the best way to say it is that all of the boxes were sorted into one space, and that space is in here." Kyle said, tapping his wand that stuck out from his back pocket. This made the purple–haired teen gawk for a moment.

"All of you stuff's in _there_?"

"Correct,"

"But… how?"

A chuckle erupted from those pale lips. "Magic," He said simply.

The two had been talking and walking, so they were already down the corridor and in the living room, making way for the couch. Without anything else in the room, the space looked bigger than it had in a long while. You could faintly make out where the Briton's belongings used to sit and hang, and Fanboy could feel his heart grow heavy with an unknown weight as his eyes took note.

The redhead plopped down and set his feet on top of the coffee table, slumping down and pulling out a small carton and a lighter from an unknown pocket. Fanboy's eyes widened by the slightest amount as he realized what they were.

"You smoke?"

Kyle gave a shrug. "When I'm tired." He said before taking a cancer stick in between his teeth. Fanboy's eye twitched.

"You _smoke_?"

The Hero's tone of voice made the Wizard turn his head, an eyebrow raised and an expression etched on his face that dared the other to ask again.

"What of it?" He asked coolly before pushing down and making the lighter spit out fire. The American could feel his fingers curl.

"Since when? You never smoke."

"And since _when_ is this any of your business? Besides, I've been doing this for a while, you just haven't noticed since I don't do it around you." Kyle countered.

"Then don't smoke, because I'm here now." Fanboy said flatly. Another chuckle bubbled from the Briton's lips before they wrapped around the filter, inhaling.

"Now's my only chance." He said in a low whisper, eyes closed. "You can hardly have a cigarette anywhere without being criticized nowadays in England." He said, letting his eyes crack open and smoke blow out from between his teeth. The purple-haired teen waved his hand in disgust, trying to fan away the second hand smoke.

"Jesus Christ, first Chum Chum and his thing with Yo, and now I find _you_ with your cigarette addiction."

"Oh sod off, I can quit when I damn well please." He said, eyes closed again and head leaning against the back of the couch. The American could feel his eyes wander through the light haze and rest on Kyle's neck as he sat there, relaxed and unwound. A hard swallow passed the Hero's throat. He's never seen the Wizard this quiet; usually, it was go-away-this or go-away-that, just angry yelling, but… a completely lax Kyle was really attractive too.

The Brit seemed to be falling asleep, but the lit cigarette kept him awake enough to hold onto it, not letting fall to the floor and start a fire. His chest rose and fell with each take of breath, and Fanboy let his eyes go over the red and yellow stripes that moved along with the Brit's breathing. Kyle's free hand lay next to him, pale as usual. The Hero never said this, but Kyle had more 'dainty' features and masculine; his hands were like a Nurse's or a Doctor's, clean and neat, and he had a lean figure, even for a boy. Without realizing, Fanboy was leaning in closer to the other, his own hand reaching to touch that still palm.

It was the crashing of the window that startled them both back into reality.

Kyle's green eyes snapped open and the two fingers the held the cigarette tightened. Fanboy snapped out of whatever trance he was in and pulled away, just in time to avoid any questions Kyle would've asked (who, of course, liked his own space and snapped at anyone who invaded it). Looking in the direction of the broken glass, the redhead gave a tired groan before pulling out his wand and flicking it in its direction, murmuring something under his breath in a gurgled mumble. Automatically, the shattered shards began to lift, and as if they were on rewind, put themselves back together. And with another quick flick, the Brit summoned the parcel that had shot through the window.

"The least they could've done was have it go through the chimney." He said angrily. But just before the package landed in his lap, a gloved hand made a grab for it.

"What is it?" Fanboy asked, already tearing at the brown paper.

"Hey! Don't do that!" Kyle said in a screech, snatching away the parcel. "Haven't you learned anything about _manners_ these past, what, four to five years? Bloody Christ, maybe my standards are too high, but maybe yours are too low." Kyle prattled angrily while unwrapping the package. Fanboy gave a grin.

"Well, I can't help it; curiosity killed the cat, y'know?"

"I'm not the type to kill cats, but I will if it'll teach you manners." The Bit said through grit teeth as he shed the box of its paper and proceeded in opening it. Just as he opened the lid, the Wizard's eyes widened. His grip on the box tightened as he set it down onto his lap, and gingerly lifted the lid all of the way. Fanboy leaned in, pressing his shoulder against the Brit's to get a good look. Inside were two eggs, each wrapped with some sort of fabric. The egg on the left seemed to be a perfect sphere, and was tinged a light yellow. The egg on the right was like a large chicken egg, at least three times larger than any normal chicken egg, and was brown on colour, speckled with dark greys here and there.

"What are they?" The Hero asked, his voice a slight whisper. Kyle didn't say anything for a moment, but kept staring at the two eggs in his lap. But after taking in a deep breath and closing his eyes, he relaxed his body, which had gone rigid.

"They're eggs Fanboy." He said in an indifferent tone. The American rolled his eyes at this.

"No, really? Well isn't that a surprise." He said. "But seriously, what are they?"

At this point, the surprise in the Brit seemed to have died down, but Fanboy knew better; Kyle had developed a skill at keeping his emotions from getting to him, especially around Sigmund.

"This one." He stated, picking up the spherical egg, "Is that of an owl. Have you ever read the Potter series Fanboy?" He asked, a slight smirk pulling at his lips. The other grinned.

"You know I have."

"Good," Kyle answered shortly. "It's a bit like that, every wizard has at least one owl, but in the real world, Wizards and Witches don't simply _buy_ them, we raise them and train them ourselves so that each owl has its own unique responses to the owner. This makes switching Owls a tad bit difficult." He said, his eyes transfixed on the yellow egg as he lightly caressed it with his forefinger.

"The question is _why_ would the Ministry send it through mail? These are handled with care, so no one in their right mind would do something so irrational."

"What about the other egg?"

"Don't touch it." He snapped, swatting away Fanboy's curious fingers.

"This one is a Dragon's egg. Quite possibly a mixed breed judging by the speckles on the eggshell."

"Do you raise dragons by yourself too?" He asked, still leaning on the redhead. He gave Fanboy a nod, lightly tracing the surface of the shell with his other hand.

"But… not from birth. The magical population, at least the ones in school or in training, are all assigned dragons at one point or another. We're assigned the _eggs_, but don't actually see them or see the dragons when they're hatched. They're all usually kept in one facility and taken care of by a dragon handler…" Kyle trailed off, his green eyes slightly narrowed.

"Something's not right."

Fanboy quirked an eyebrow at this. "Why'd you say that?"

"Because! You don't just mail eggs from one place to another! Things like this, if it ever occurs, are usually sorted out by the Ministry–"

"The Ministry?"

"The Ministry of Magic."

"Like in Harry Potter?"

"Yes, just like in Harry Potter."

"So… what about the Ministry?"

Kyle rolled his eyes. "When things like this ever occur, it's usually monitored by the Ministry, and if things are monitored by the ministry, then that means it shouldn't come flying through the window." Kyle said in an irritated huff. Fanboy was silent for a moment, but then scrunched up his nose.

"Wait, so… eggs don't usually come in the mail?"

"That's what I just said!" Kyle exclaimed, clearly irritated by the other boy's slowness. "Eggs _ne_v_er _ come in through mail, and if they are, it doesn't happen like this. And the fact that it _did_ happen like this means that there's something going on back in England."

"So is that why you have to go back?"

Kyle opened his mouth to say something, but then his mind went completely blank.

For once, Fanboy had pointed out something… not stupid.

* * *

><p>The quill pen he held in his hand shook by the slightest bit as it hovered over the yellowed parchment. Fingers nervously tapped against the table, the owner of those hands clearly not knowing what to write.<p>

Wait.

No.

Scratch that.

He _did_ know what to write, the problem was just _how_ to write it.

And no, it wasn't a problem of literacy or illiteracy, it was just an issue of delicacy and persuasion.

Setting the quill back into it holder, the German leaned back into his chair and drew out a long sigh. His eyes were closed and his head leaned against the back of the chair. Outside, the rain pittered and pattered lightly against the window, drowning out the sounds of the crowd and cars that rushed by. He knew that by the end of the week, at least a fourth of those people outside were going to be filed as 'missing', and there was nothing the Ministry could do about it. The disappearances have been… voluntary in a way. There was hardly any forced used (that the investigative team could find) that could explain where these missing lot went, or _how_ they went missing.

Giving a tired grunt, the man rubbed his eyes with one hand before dragging his palm down his face. Maybe he needed some rest… afterall, he needed to begin the preparations for the arrival of the 'new' students.

A smirk pulled at his lips.

And maybe he'll be able to see his 'rival' at the main hall as well.

Standing up, the Sorcerer stretched, and then left his desk, not bothering to finish that appeal that was due in about a week. He had time, so why rush?

* * *

><p>So… yeah, if you were looking for something along the lines of 'surprise sex' and bad grammar, this isn't the story for you.<p>

Also, I rushd this, sorry about that. But I probably won't revise it to fix any spelling mistakes or grammar errors, I'm just too lazy.

Ahhh, another thing, the cigarette thing.

I like cigarettes

Yes

I'm a smoker.

Too bad for you. I'm going to make Kyle a smoker as well. But if you think about it (after a few screwdrivers), it makes sense; people who are stressed out a lot and can't find a way to relax can sometimes end up smoking. It's not really that bad. I mean, I do it in private where there are no children or people. As long as I'm making sure no one else is inhaling the second hand smoke, I don't think I'm doing anything _that_ horrible. But it's getting trickier; both in England and in NYC, it's harder to find places where you can just have a single cancer stick and enjoy it. People think it's their duty to 'save the lives of others who smoke' by getting into their business and telling them how they'll die alone with a thin blanket over them, and how they should really stop 'hurting themselves'.

Ffffuuuuuck you.

I'm already dying, and it doesn't bother me. The cigarettes are just helping it along.


	4. Chapter 4

I don't own anything

* * *

><p>He wouldn't stop pacing the floor; with one hand resting on his chin and the other hand on the elbow, the Briton walked and re–walked the same few paces of the living room. Fanboy gave a shrug, his feet propped up on the coffee table and arms resting on top of the back of the couch.<p>

"I don't see the big deal Kyle, maybe you're just over–reacting?" Fanboy said with a shrug, but this merely made the Brit's eyebrow twitch.

"I _never_ over–react." The redhead said in a hiss, shooting the other an angry look. "Something's really not right here. I should've listened to Mr. Kinn…"

"Mr. Kinn?" Fanboy asked, one purple eyebrow raised. Kyle gave a nod, still pacing. "What's Mr. Kinn got to do with you going back to Milkweed?"

"Honestly, I haven't an answer for you there." The redhead said, furrowing his brows. "But… out of all of the people in that school, he'd be the last person who would know… at least, judging from appearances, anything specific about the magical world.."

"Well, y'know what they say; ya can't judge a book by it's cover." Fanboy said, a slight grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he watched the other fidget with his fingers. "You can't stand still, can you?"

"Oh that's rich." Kyle answered flatly. "_You_ can't stand still no matter what. _I _can't stand still when there's something strange going on."

He turned his head to face the purple–haired boy.

"There's a _difference_."

The other gave a grin. "Just sounds like you're just being grouchy."

"Oh please, maybe you're just being an idiot as usual." Kyle said in a huff. Rubbing his eyes, he let a sigh pass through him before he plopped himself down on the couch, a good foot apart from Fanboy.

"I don't think my stay at Milkweed is going to be a fun as I thought it would be." He said in a disappointed tone.

"Don't say that, who knows? Maybe you'll make a new friend." Fanboy said through a faint smile. He knew that the Brit _did_ get lonely, and he knew that the other boy secretly craved some sort of attention; the slightly intrusive kind that struck up a conversation.

"Hey…"

And he knew that the redhead was practically dying on the inside, whether it be from lack of magical stimulus or intellectual.

"Don't look like that…"

And without realizing, the Hero had reached over, letting his gloved fingertips graze that pale, freckled cheek.

"You'll ruin your face…" He said, his voice just above a whisper so that his words hung in the air between them, but only for a few brief moments. Now his palm was leaning against the side of Kyle's face, the fingers crawling into the red thread of his hair and the thumb resting on the spot right next to the corner of his lips. Time seemed to slow down, and a look of surprise was splashed across the Briton's face as the masked boy leaned in, his mouth slightly ajar as he pressed softly against those pale lips.

"You worry too much…" Fanboy murmured, "It's not healthy."

And with another swift motion, the Hero let his hand move into the forest of the Brit's hair, lightly grasping it as he kissed him again. He could feel his chest swelling with an unknown desire, and the soft gasp for air that Kyle made beneath him fed the fire that was kindling in the bottom pit of his stomach. But then, just as he was losing himself, he felt a pair of hands press against his chest, willing him away. Reality struck down on the purple–haired boy, and he pulled away, letting go of those lovely locks and releasing those light lips. He took in the sight of a dazed Kyle, cheeks flushed and eyes lightly hazy. Fanboy could feel his own cheeks beginning to heat. He opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't manage anything and instead pressed his mouth against Kyle's again. His weight pushed down on the thinner boy, trapping the Briton between the couch and the Hero as the said Hero continued violating the redhead, his breathing growing heavy as he snogged him and grasped whatever his hands could grab.

"F-Fa_ngh-_"

He could feel small hands grab at the front of his shirt, slowly traveling up to grasp his shoulders. Panicked moans and aroused cries escaped Kyle as he felt Fanboy's lips paralyzing him. They were all over him; his cheeks, lips, ears, neck. Oh _god_ the neck, his green eyes went out of focus and rolled to the back of head when he felt that wet tongue swirl against his skin and teeth bite down as strong hands grabbed him, pushing their bodies together. A shudder rippled through his body, and he soon found the Hero grunting against him, his own legs loosely wrapped around the American's waist and keeping their bodies close as the primitive act of physical need continued.

"F, Fanboy… s-stop." He said in a weak whimper. It was a lie of course, he didn't want it to stop, but dear god it was just so _wrong_. Unfortunately, the Brit's plea fell on deaf ears; Fanboy, who was in a complete frenzy, pulled his gloves off before using one hand to grab the back of Kyle's neck as the other caressed the skin underneath his shirt. Another cry of mercy escaped Kyle, but it was drowned out when the Hero pressed their lips together again. Kyle could feel fear rising in his chest as he struggled against the other, and the fear grew when he felt Fanboy's groin grind against his own, causing a moan to bubble up and go past his lips.

They were boys, they shouldn't be doing things like this.

It was when he felt a tug at his pants, the fear overrode the arousal and made Kyle push against the American, crying out a violent 'Stop!' and untangling himself from the other boy the best he could. Shaking, the Brit pulled away, toppling off of the couch, and then crawling toward the wall in a panicked state.

This… wasn't how he imagined the night would turn out.

* * *

><p>The locks clicked shut as footsteps echoed through the dim–lit corridor. The torches that hung up against the cobble stoned wall burned and crackled, watching in silence as the figure swiftly made way out of the narrow passage. It wasn't long before the clicking of feet stopped and was replaced by the sound of thumps; the person going up a set of stairs. The creaking of a door swinging open followed suit, and then a final click. This one heavier, <em>sturdier<em>, compared to the thin clicks of the metal locks below. The man entered a well lit room, bare bulbs hanging above him like strange fruit, looking down upon the square, white room. There were only two wood chairs, a door, and a sink in the corner.

"It's just so nice…." The man said, taking in a deep breath, holding it, and then letting it out in one big gush.

"The smell of new paint, clean chairs, nice lighting… nothing could be better."

And with that, he walked across the room toward another door, leaving the near bare room, and into another. This time it looked like a living room of sorts. Before setting down on the couch, the man swiftly picked up the pile of letters I one hand and sifted through them. When he got to the middle of the list, he stopped, a smile slowly curling his lips. Without minding the other envelopes, he tore open the one in his hands and pulled out the letter; a neatly folded paper that was tinted purple:

_Dear dad,_

_I thought about your offer, and honestly, I don't want to be a part of the family business. You know it goes against what I stand for, and the morals I ha_ve. _But, I realize that you're also my father, and without you, I wouldn't ha_ve _been able to li_ve _the way I do now. So as a consolation of sorts, and as a back up plan if things don't go well, I'll join you and try to learn the business if I don't get into college. I know it's a while from now, but I'd like to ha_ve _more time to think about the decisions I'll be making._

_I'm not making any promises, but the possibility of me joining you is there. That's all._

_Hoping you're well,_

_F.R._

It was a rather short letter, and the man went through it again, but either way, he was satisfied; he only had one son, and he _had_ been badgering his boy about the matter. A letter like this could only make him smile. Setting it down on the stand by the couch, he leaned back, letting his eyes close.

His dearest Fanboy, his most prized creation by far, coming to join him in a matter of two to three years or so. To say the least, he was excited.

"Oh Alice…" He said in a whisper. "If only you were here. If only you could share my joy… our son has decided to join his father."

* * *

><p>I know it's short. My chapters are usually, relatively, short like this. Sorry you guys.<p>

But yeah, I know everything's really ambiguous, and nothing's been cleared up yet; I'm sorry you guys, I'm sorry. But I really don't want to rush through the plot, and I think I'm still in the background–building process, so just bear with me a little more.

And, about any grammar errors and misspellings, just…. Don't give me a hard time about that stuff. I know the 'They're' 'There' and 'Their' thing, I know the 'You're' and 'Your' thing, I'm just not good at spotting the errors.

But…. Yeah, I hope you liked it.


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